Children of Heaven
by nesting-seraph
Summary: They were a dysfunctional family, the angels, but a family nonetheless, and within every family there are stories to be told.
1. O ipamis

**Hello, all! Long time no see.**

**This is my first SPN fic, so I'm really just testing the waters here.**

**Enjoy! **

* * *

There was a time, many eons ago, when God's holy angels were not so well-versed. A time when many of them were little more than children, and the heavens rang with cries of 'Rafael, get out of my room!', 'Stop singing, Lucifer, I'm trying to read,' and 'Dad, Gabriel isn't sharing!'.

Of course, angels grow up like everyone else – albeit a little slower- and time moves forwards.

Sometimes, the angels wish it wasn't so; at others, they are glad they've escaped the grim confusion of childhood.

There was a time when they were truly brothers.

* * *

God chose His household very carefully. While He considers every angel to be one of His children, only the brightest and the best can be part of His immediate family. He adopted His sons from every echelon of the angelic hierarchy - excepting the cherubim due to their lack of discipline - and sought to find balance in the qualities of their personalities.

He chose Michael for his obedience, Raphael for his strength and Gabriel for his passion. These were gifted archangels, and obvious choices. Beyond that however, He was unsure.

An archangel called Lucifer became the fourth son after much deliberation. He certainly had charisma, and seemed to hold the other angels in a kind of wonderful thrall; of course, the strength of his will wasn't clear at the time.

Finally, two lesser angels. Balthazar - for his ingenuity – and a small one named Castiel. The other angels were perplexed as to what the Good Lord saw in Castiel, as he seemed weak and afraid. Nevertheless, God insisted that he showed promise; he would someday be great, one way or another.

This was the family at the centre of the Host, and though it did not last, it has never been forgotten.

* * *

"If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times, Gabriel. Don't answer Lucifer's prayers!"

It is a grim, cloudy night about the Host, and this is due to yet another argument between the Holy Father and his second-youngest son.

"But Dad...he's in pain! Surely just once couldn't hurt..." Gabriel's pleas are ignored; much like the wailing of his thrice-damned big brother.

"Remember when I used to send Castiel to sit on the Stairs? Remember how I told you not to talk to him because that was the worst part of the punishment? Hmm? This is the same thing! Lucifer is in Hell for a reason, you know."

Gabriel looks away, muttering under his breath.

"What was that?" God is pretty sure of what he heard, and doesn't like it one bit.

"Nothing." Gabriel says, flushing.

"Good. Now get out."

Gabriel turns and storms away, shutting the office door fiercely enough to make the surrounding clouds shift. As they do, he notices a tiny pair of wings retreat hurriedly into the shadows.

"Cas?" he asks wearily; arguing with his Dad is tiring work.

There is a moment's pause before Castiel reveals himself. He is small and dark-haired and skinny, like a baby crow. His blue eyes are piercing.

"What did He say?" Castiel murmurs, watching Gabriel intently. "Is He really mad?"

Gabriel is a little irritated at his brother for eavesdropping, but then remembers doing exactly the same thing when he was younger.

"Yeah, but only with me."

Castiel looks worried all the same and his gaze drifts to Gabriel's wings, which are poised for flight. "Where are you going?"

"You don't miss a trick, do you kid?" Gabriel says, trying to change the subject.

"Where?" Cas demands, more forcefully.

"I can't say." Gabriel has already decided not to tell.

"I won't tell anyone."

"I don't know that."

"I promise!" Cas' voice trembles slightly and Gabriel feels so, so guilty.

"Sorry, brother." He says, reaching out to muss Castiel's hair apologetically. The smaller angel ducks away from the gesture, looking distinctly upset.

"Look, I'm so-"

Castiel gives Gabriel one last hurt (sad-angry-scared) look and vanishes, wraith-like, in a blur of motion. Gabriel sighs deeply, unsurprised that Cas is done listening.

_He isn't the only one_, Gabriel thinks bitterly, before bracing his wings and taking flight.

The whole host feels him leave, but by then it is too late to stop him.

* * *

In the minor panic that follows Gabriel's departure, God buries His face in His hands, silently wondering what He has done to deserve such treatment. He is sorely tempted to reach for the whisky on the sideboard, but resists.

If His sons would just listen, life would be heavenly. The family is still shaken by Lucifer's sudden and violent rebellion a few years previously, especially his younger brothers. God pretends not to notice the fear that now flashes in His youngest son's eyes whenever He speaks to him. Castiel is barely a child, younger by far than his brothers, and was unprepared for God's anger that day.

Gabriel, it seems, is trying to follow in his brother's footsteps.

There is an abrupt knock on the door.

"Come in." The Heavenly Father looks up to see His eldest son Michael standing in the doorway.

"Father." The young archangel stands to attention.

"What is it, son?"

"We just felt Gabriel leave – would You like Rafael and I to retrieve him?"

God looks at His son closely. Michael is perfect, so obedient and composed that for a moment God is deeply proud that He chose him all those years ago. A wave of disappointment follows that pride; as well behaved as Michael is, he has never possessed the charm that made Lucifer so widely adored.

"I don't understand. Why does Gabriel insist on copying Lucifer? Why can't he be more like you?" God speaks without thinking, and sees barely concealed horror flash across Michael's face.

"I...I..." Michael doesn't know what to say. He has no right to advise his Father on anything, no matter how trivial. In the end, God knows all.

"Never mind." The Good Lord sighs. "Yes. Go and bring him back. In one piece, mind!"

"Yes, Father." Michael turns back to the door, where Rafael, the second son, is waiting. Rafael bows his head respectfully and then the pair leave. The door closes with a quiet snap, and seconds later God calls out.

"Good luck!"

_Such good sons I have_, God thinks to himself. Then he remembers Lucifer, and His feeling of failure and regret returns. He reaches for the whisky, cursing quietly.

"Me damn it!"

* * *

Elsewhere in the Host, Balthazar is having a fairly relaxing time of it.

While Gabriel is kicking up a fuss, everyone has been too busy to notice that he has been lounging in bed for the best part of three days; eating apricots, drinking wine and reading a first edition copy of Virgil's Aeneid that he managed to snag on his last trip to earth.

The angels are free to craft their rooms as they please, and Balthazar takes full advantage of that. Today, an enormous bed dominates; its owner is lying across it, wings sprawled out in a way so undignified that Michael would probably take offence.

There is a colossal thunderclap outside, and Balthazar rolls his eyes. He feels brief pity for Gabriel, wherever he is.

_Dad's going to be fuming when you get home, baby brother. _Balthazar sends the thought in a random direction, hoping that Gabriel might take the hint and quit while he's ahead; preferably before his Father gets too drunk.

Still, Balthazar can't bring himself to care too much. For now, Gabriel is distracting everyone perfectly.

The quiet sound of knocking on the door catches Balthazar's attention; he looks up from his scrolls. The sound is coming from so low down that he knows it must be Castiel – no other small angel would dare to bother him. Sure enough, the door opens a little and the youngest angel peeks inside.

"Hey, Cassy." Balthazar says, raising a hand. Castiel waves back; it's a cautious movement, as though he's trying to gauge just how welcoming his brother is feeling.

"Hello." Castiel seems upset, and Balthazar knows better than to ask why.

"You're up late," he comments, gesturing for Castiel to come closer. The smaller angel dutifully shuffles towards the bed.

"I can't sleep."

"Why not?"

"It's loud." Castiel explains, pointing to Balthazar's window and the roiling black clouds beyond. Thunder crackles ominously as if to illustrate his point.

"It's not so bad. Come up here." Balthazar pats the bed, and then draws his wings in to make space for Castiel, who clambers up and wriggles under the covers. Being so young, Cas lacks the experience to create his own room, and the one his Father created for him isn't nearly so luxurious as this one. He never gets to see the rooms of his _oldest_ brothers, but somehow doubts that they are so lavish; Michael especially seems to frown upon extravagance.

While Cas is occupied with rearranging the cushions underneath him, Balthazar goes to hide his scrolls somewhere his less appreciative brothers won't find them; the Aeneid is full of Greek myths and Greek gods, both of which are considered blasphemous in the extreme. After this, he stows the wine (self-indulgent) and the fruit (unnecessary) elsewhere.

"Balthazar?"

Balthazar turns to see Castiel looking more worried than ever.

"Hmm?"

Castiel's voice is muffled by one of Balthazar's many blankets. "Why did Gabriel leave?"

Balthazar sighs, and Castiel thinks for a horrible moment that he actually looks distressed.

"Honestly? I don't know. But don't you worry, Cas. He'll be back." Balthazar returns to his place on the bed and lies down flat.

"He wouldn't tell me where he was going." Castiel says; he is still peeved about this.

"How rude of him." Balthazar finds Castiel's outrage amusing, but decides not to offend him by laughing.

"Do you think he could be with Lucifer?"

Balthazar turns to his brother, who stares back evenly. Evidently, he isn't joking.

"I highly doubt it. Lucifer isn't a very... _accessible_ person at the minute." Balthazar eventually says. He decides it would be imprudent to explain to Cas the exact nature of Lucifer's incarceration – no doubt it would give him nightmares of the worst possible kind.

Hell, it had given Balthazar nightmares.

There is a particularly loud thunderclap, and rain begins lashing furiously against the window. Castiel shivers, shuffling closer to Balthazar who strokes his hair lightly.

"That's a hell of a storm."

"Don't say hell." Castiel says sternly. "Dad says not to say hell."

"Dad doesn't care."

Castiel looks doubtful. "Yes, he does."

Balthazar shrugs and takes his hand away from Cas, whose wings twitch irritably in response. He mutters something unintelligible.

"Speak up, _merifri_."

"You were making me sleepy." Castiel rubs his hair vigorously, as if trying to erase the feeling of his brother's hand there.

"Oh, sorry." Balthazar laughs lowly, fondly; Castiel is sweet, in a juvenile way.

Balthazar decides at that moment that Castiel deserves neither the guilt of Lucifer's falling, the wrath of his Father nor any of the other divine baggage that has been heaped upon him.

Seemingly sensing Balthazar's moment of compassion, Castiel takes the opportunity to wind his slender arms around Balthazar's. This earns him a questioning look, to which he responds with an adoring smile.

"Aren't we a little old for cuddling, _iadpil-ar-loholo_?" Balthazar asks, raising an eyebrow. Castiel looks crestfallen.

"That's what Rafael said." Castiel admits.

"You wanted to hug Rafael?" Balthazar splutters incredulously; only the very naive or the very stupid would even attempt such a thing.

"He didn't say that _specifically,_" Castiel assures him, "Only that I should learn to be stronger."

Balthazar snorts.

_Rafael __**would **__say something like that to a child_.

* * *

After a few minutes of silence, Castiel speaks quietly.

"It's really dark, isn't it?"

"It is."

It has been growing steadily darker, and now a black fog is pressing up against the windows, creating darkness so true that even the angels, with their preternatural vision, struggle to see through it. An intricate swirl of ice crystals is creeping across the glass, and the air inside is frigid – Balthazar hasn't noticed the cold until now.

"They must not have found him yet." Balthazar mutters – this gives him a kind of perverse satisfaction. "Until they do, I'm getting under these covers. It's bloody freezing."

He slides down into bed and lets Castiel lie right next to him, so close that Balthazar can feel the faint reverberations of his grace beneath his skin. Balthazar has his faults, for sure, but he isn't going to be the one to deny his brother shallow comfort. He has a heart.

"Sing me a song." Castiel murmurs sleepily. He is barely awake; Balthazar can see the gleam of his eyes in the dark.

"I can't sing, Cassy."

"Please."

"I don't know any songs."

"Sing me the lullaby that Lucifer used to sing."

Balthazar makes a face, though Cas doesn't see. "That's a morbid song."

"It's pretty." Castiel yawns widely and rolls over, turning his back to his brother. His wings are pleasantly warm on Balthazar's side, though he remembers from experience that they fidget when Castiel is sleeping.

"Lucifer had a beautiful voice. I am unfortunately not so l-" Balthazar's quietens suddenly. A shudder ripples through Castiel. Elsewhere in the host, there is a disturbance.

Michael and Rafael have returned empty-handed, and their Father is displeased.

His anger is tangible, and Balthazar feels it as strongly as if he'd had a physical being forced inside his ribcage. Castiel's wings arc instinctively, like the spine of a disturbed cat.

The Call begins as a barely audible hum which works its way around the Host, slow-creeping and paralytic and awful. It grows louder, eventually morphing into words; a repetitive chant, a desperate attempt to summon Gabriel.

It is the opposite of a prayer.

_O ipamis. _

This cannot be.

_Noncf eolis osf. _

You make discord.

_Gil adna. _

We want obedience.

_Ar ds noncf nenni i adphaht. _

That which you have become is unspeakable.

_Carma! _

Come out!

As the Call ends, Balthazar releases the breath he hadn't realised he was holding. His limbs have siezed; somewhere near his throat Castiel – who he had forgotten briefly – makes a low noise of fear.

Balthazar hushes him, pulls him close, hugs him tight. There are few things so painful to feel as the Call, with its sinister promises of shame and retribution.

At last, against his better judgement, Balthazar tries to remember Lucifer's lullaby. The tune lingers in his mind, half-forgotten and mournful.

There, in the darkness of the Host, Balthazar sings.

_Rest, shy rest, will you spend a while?_

_Rock this cradle of mine_

_Spin the wheels of time, shy rest_

_Will you spend a while?_

_Rest, sly rest, will you take me down?_

_Tie me to your cart_

_Put to sleep the day, sly rest_

_Still my beating heart._

* * *

**Enochian: Balthazar calls Castiel _merifri (_angel) and _iadpil ar loholo (_him that shines). I guess this is the Enochian equivalent of 'darling' and other such endearments :)**

* * *

**Okay, you probably won't believe me when I tell you that originally this was meant to be funny...^^' but then Balthazar and Cas were just asking for some angst.**

**Never mind. **

**Hope you liked it! **

**Kal277 x**

******P.S. If there's anything else you want to see happen in this verse, message me! I'm all ears. **


	2. Aoiveae zchis emna

**Hello again, everyone! Thank you for the kind reviews and faves!**

**This chapter takes place a while before the previous one.**

* * *

Castiel had always loved Lucifer.

This was to be expected, of course, as almost everyone did. Castiel loved Lucifer's mannerisms; the various ways in which he was so much more interesting than any other brother. You knew he was there without seeing him- he had an energy, a presence that was impossible to ignore. He was always singing, which some angels found irritating but Castiel didn't mind.

The best thing about Lucifer, though, was the way he made Castiel feel. The way he would speak, as if Castiel was his favourite and the only thing that mattered. He was tactile and brutally honest, a fan of tough love.

Castiel had loved him for all of that.

* * *

It is a dark night, and the stars are out in their millions. Balthazar and Gabriel are stargazing, and on the other side of the Host, Castiel receives a light-hearted summons.

_Carma, Castiel. Aoiveae zchis emna. _

Come, Castiel. The stars are here.

Castiel is delighted; he much prefers spending time with his brothers to amusing himself. Being the youngest, he spends many a day alone about the host. He is too young to play a part in most celestial activities but too old to be a charge to one of his brothers- this is why Castiel is so eager to join the older angels.

As he flies_, _he avoids Michael and Rafael, who would doubtless lecture him about 'careering around the host alone in the middle of the night' if they caught him.

They don't, and Castiel lands near his brothers unscathed, if a little unsteady on his feet; he only recently learned to fly. Running towards the figures in the distance, he notices something.

There are three angels, not two.

His first thought is Zachariah (patronising and rude), and this thought displeases him. But he decides that Gabriel and Balthazar would never willingly spend time with such a boring angel. Besides, even from far away Castiel can see that this angel is beautiful, which Zachariah is not.

When he eventually recognises the angel, he is filled with a strange elation.

"Castiel!" Lucifer crows, once the smaller angel is within earshot. He gets up from where he is sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with Gabriel and skips to meet Cas. Castiel finds himself being scooped up into Lucifer's arms; he hugs Lucifer's neck and kisses his cheek. If it were possible for an angel to be jealous, this would certainly have made them so; Castiel never kisses his brothers.

"Did you miss me?" Lucifer croons.

"Yes." Castiel says solemnly.

"Have these two been treating you well?" Lucifer indicates Balthazar and Gabriel with a vague movement. Balthazar snorts, while Gabriel doesn't seem sure whether Lucifer is joking or not.

Castiel nods vigorously. "Of course."

Lucifer half-smiles, thoughtful. Castiel makes as if to slide to the ground, but Lucifer doesn't loosen his hold, keeping the young angel trapped against his side.

"I'm not done with you, _merifri_." He says, raking his fingers through one of Castiel's wings none too gently. This is unpleasant, but bearable and Castiel stops his wriggling for a minute.

He must have made some noise of protest, though, because Balthazar looks over from his stargazing.

"Leave him be." he chides. Lucifer acquiesces and releases Cas, who drops to the ground and falls over. Gabriel tries and fails to muffle his laughter.

"Sorry, _limlal._" Lucifer apologises. He means it. Castiel scrambles to his feet, flushing and humiliated.

"You haven't grown into those yet, have you, _upaah_?" Lucifer says amusedly, indicating Castiel's wings, which are pitch-black and currently in a state of disarray.

Castiel hasn't, much to his frustration. His wings are so big compared to his body that they tend to trail along the floor behind him, where they are trodden on by other angels on an almost daily basis. Gabriel once thought it might be amusing to tie them together – it wasn't.

"You look like a fledgling that's fallen out of its nest." Lucifer observes. Castiel scowls.

"It's not my fault," he says, reaching round to try and flatten some of the crumpled feathers.

"Of course it isn't. I'm only teasing." Losing interest in Castiel, Lucifer returns to his place next to Gabriel, where they resume whatever it is they were doing before.

Balthazar decides it's probably time to intervene; Castiel looks a little too close to tears.

"Let me fix those for you." Balthazar offers. Castiel smiles gratefully and crawls over to his older brother, who begins the laborious task of smoothing out the dishevelled feathers one by one.

* * *

When Castiel deems himself presentable again – he's fastidious for such a young angel - he removes himself from Balthazar's lap and wanders over to his other brothers. They appear to be having some kind of competition. Every few minutes, one of them would hold up a small orb of fire, which would float off into the sky. These orbs had begun as regular yellow fire, but had grown increasingly frivolous as the night wore on. Now, they come in a wide array of psychedelic colours and shapes. As Castiel watches, one of Gabriel's floats up and then explodes noisily in a shower of fuchsia sparks.

Lucifer bursts out laughing. "That was good. But I can do better."

Castiel slides closer, just as Lucifer releases what looks like an ordinary orb. The illusion is shattered, however, when it zooms of into the air, emitting a high pitched squealing noise and leaving a trail of silver dust. It vanishes above their heads in a blaze of white.

"Aren't Dad's stars good enough for you two?" Balthazar grumbles good-naturedly.

"Nah," Gabriel laughs, and it sounds like bells. "Cas, you try it!"

Gabriel uses one of his wings to draw Castiel closer. The youngest angel sits between Lucifer and Gabriel with an expression of slight apprehension. After looking from brother to brother, he holds out his tiny hand and frowns down at it. He sits there for a minute or two and then makes an irritated noise. "It's difficult!"

"Yeah, you bet. Try again!" Gabriel smiles encouragingly. Castiel's frown deepens noticeably, and a shower of bluish sparks suddenly jumps from his palm. He squeaks.

"Nice one. Kid's got style."

"You can do better, Castiel." Lucifer says. "You can make an orb. I know you can."

Castiel nods firmly, and holds out his hand again. A few minutes pass, and a small blue flame is all he can muster. They are about to give in, when the flame vanishes and Castiel slumps to the side. Lucifer catches him as he falls; Gabriel is horrified.

"Cas?! Are you okay?"

"He's fine." Lucifer assures him, sliding Castiel into a more comfortable position. "He used too much energy, that's all."

"Shall I fetch Michael?" Gabriel asks agitatedly, peering at Cas. He looks much too pale.

"If you fetch Michael I will hurt you." Lucifer snaps, deadly serious. Gabriel settles with watching Castiel worriedly.

"Balthazar?"

The older angel raises an eyebrow. "Only you two could manage something like this. I put him in your care for ten minutes, and you manage to knock him out."

"Aren't you even a little concerned?"

"You probably don't remember this, Gabe, but you were constantly keeling over as a child. So no. I'm not worried. He'll come round."

Lucifer's face lights up. "I remember. You were always trying something that was blatantly out of your league, and you wouldn't stop until you'd passed out from the effort."

"What can I say? I'm determined." Gabriel huffs.

At Lucifer's side, Castiel makes a whining noise and opens one eye. Gabriel pats his arm.

"Welcome back."

Castiel appears confused for a second. "Everything's spinning."

"Give it a second." Balthazar advises, and Castiel shuts his eyes again. Gabriel feels a spasm of guilt.

"Sorry-" he starts to say, but Lucifer cuts him off with a look.

* * *

When Castiel has fully recovered, he is decidedly less keen to join in with his brothers games. Lucifer thinks he's being foolish; Gabriel is privately relieved.

"If you concentrate, you won't faint." Lucifer tries to reassure his brother, to no avail. He makes an exasperated noise when Castiel shakes his head.

"No." Castiel is adamant.

"You'll never learn if you don't try." Lucifer warns him, narrowing his eyes. Castiel looks down, but doesn't give.

"He can learn. He's young yet." Balthazar says from his space behind them. "Don't be cruel."

"Fine." Lucifer grunts, standing abruptly. As he leaves, he almost glares at Castiel, but catches himself; even _he_ realises that picking on a fledgling is beyond unbecoming.

Gabriel watches him go like an owlet might watch its mother leave the nest.

"Close your mouth, Gabriel." Balthazar teases. Gabriel growls in his general direction and then turns away.

Castiel watches the stars, innocently oblivious.

* * *

**Enochian: Lucifer calls Castiel_ limlal_ (treasure), _merifri_ (angel) and _upaah_ (wings). 'Wings' because Castiel's wings are too big for his body :) Bless him. **

* * *

**Well, that's it for now!**

**As always, prompts are good things :) **

**This was inspired by mishabean, who asked for Lucifer singing to/interacting with his brothers. **

**There is a distinct lack of singing (sorry ^^') but hopefully its still okay. **

**Kal277 x**

**P.S. I am tentatively planning an AU, but please don't hold your breath! **


	3. Napzsad

**Hi! Sorry this chapter took so long, life caught up with me a bit. **

**This is partly for a prompt I got on A03 and partly for a prompt I got from Brunax5. **

**I hope you like it! **

* * *

"Angels are warriors. It is our sole duty to protect Heaven, our home, and all the knowledge and power that lies therein. This is why you are here. This is why, today, you will pick up your swords and fight for the first time. Good luck, Castiel." Anna says, stepping down from her pedestal, wings aloft.

Castiel looks up from where he is kneeling. "You forgot the part about 'honouring the name of our Father'."

"Oh, yeah." Anna takes a step backwards. "And you will honour the name of our Father, and stuff."

"Anna! He doesn't say 'stuff'."

"He does too. I heard him, when Balthazar was knighted. He said 'By the Holy Order of the Heavenly stuff'. And anyway, I'm not Anna, I'm Michael, and you're not supposed to interrupt when you're getting knighted."

"Sorry, Michael." Castiel mutters, unconvinced.

"You are forgiven, brother." Anna says, in what she hopes is an imperious and awe-inspiring voice. "And now you are a Warrior of God. Amen."

Castiel almost corrects her again, but remembers that Anna is the oldest and it was her idea to play 'Angels getting Knighted' in the first place.

They are playing outside the Library, a great marble expanse of pillars and ancient tomes, the palace of the Metatron and his garrison of scholarly angels. Some juvenile angels visit the Library regularly, to do their lessons and research their sigils. However, Castiel is comparatively coarse and avoids his lessons with a success rate that Gabriel is rightly proud of. The scholars of the Library are Castiel's natural opposites and therefore are best avoided. Anna is older, and more sensible, but shares Castiel's short, blunt opinion on Lessons versus Playing.

This is why they are outside the Library rather than inside it – for politeness' and their sanity's sake.

Castiel picks up his sword, which is actually just a stick, but it was the best they could muster up at short notice. Castiel is getting better at Creating, but unfortunately has not reached a stage when he can create intricate play-weapons at will for the youth of the Host. Besides, if anyone caught them playing with a real angel-killing sword he'd probably be strung up by his wings for a week.

At this thought, he turns to the west, where the real warriors are training. That corner of the Host is dark, crackling with lightning and the metallic clang of sword on sword. Eventually, every angel will find themselves there; mock-fighting their brothers for rank and celestial glory.

Occasionally, someone would come away hurt.

"Balthazar's over there," Castiel says, half-anxious, playing briefly forgotten, "And Gabriel, and Raphael, and all the others."

Anna presses her mouth into an unhappy line, and the pair sit down on the marble steps.

Castiel frowns sullenly. "What are they even training for?" he mutters. The subject of training ties in closely with the 'duties' and 'sacrifices' that Zachariah is always going on about, and if Castiel is honest he doesn't like the sound of any of them.

"To protect heaven, obviously." Anna sits up a little straighter, as if remembering her birthright all of a sudden. Her grey wings flare a little.

"From what, though?" Castiel can't think of anyone who would be stupid enough to challenge the might of Heaven's army.

"I dunno. Leviathans, probably." Anna shrugs, and her wings shrug too.

"Oh yeah. Leviathans." Castiel breathes. Leviathans feature in many an angelic tale, occasionally rising up to munch on cities and beasts and angels, and therefore make brilliant antagonists for any play fight.

"Let's play Michael and Lucifer versus the Leviathans!" Anna suggests. Castiel's bad mood lifts instantaneously.

"We need someone to fight." Castiel says and Anna dashes off. It hadn't been an order, but even Castiel, naive as he is, has noticed that being a part of the inner household means less legwork for him.

* * *

"We're playing Michael and Lucifer versus Leviathans." Castiel explains when Anna returns with Inias and Hester, dragged 'unwillingly' from one of Zachariah's lectures.

"Cool!" Inias says, his coppery wings twitching excitedly. "Can I be Mich-"

"No, I'm Michael. I've got a sword." Anna brandishes her stick, which suddenly grows a pretty purple orchid. Hester laughs.

"No, stupid. Like _that_!" The orchid crumbles and is replaced by a bunch of wicked thorns. Anna swings it haphazardly.

"You'll poke someone's grace out!" Hester complains, but she doesn't mean it. Juvenile angels are little if not violent.

Castiel takes up Lucifer's mantle, and raises his stick against the leviathan hordes.

"_Parm_, _siatris_, _parm_!" he wails, and the leviathans scatter.

There is a brief, satisfying scuffle, which inevitably ends with Inias and Hester begging for mercy on their bellies, waving their tentacles and pincers at the advancing archangels.

"Shall we let them live?" asks Michael, waving his stick vaguely.

"No way! Chop off their heads!" Lucifer kicks out at the nearest Leviathan, who screams convincingly.

"All thirty of them?"

"ALL THIRTY!"

Screeching their most threatening war cries, the archangels dismember the leviathans and scatter the pieces.

"Now it's our turn to be the archangels!" says Hester after a moment's 'playing-dead', crawling up off the ground and brushing herself down.

"Yeah!" Inias reaches out for the swords, which Anna and Castiel reluctantly hand over, unable to deny the fairness of the situation.

The fight begins anew, only with less screeching and more explosive sound effects, courtesy of Inias. Castiel is in the midst of what he considers to be the best death scene of the day when a harassed voice brings their games to a halt.

"What are you playing at?" the voice snaps. Castiel scrambles gracelessly to his feet, while his companions stumble into awkward gestures of respect that make Castiel's insides drop to somewhere below his knees. The new arrival is high-ranked.

He turns, and barely suppresses a squeak of alarm. It's Michael himself, back early from the training fields, flaming sword and all.

"Well?" Michael asks.

"Um...we were just playing." Anna stammers. Hester hides the thorny stick behind her back.

"Yeah, we was only playing." Inias adds, wings drooping under the force of Michael's disapproval.

Michael folds his arms, glancing at the four diminutive angels before him. "Perhaps you should be playing somewhere else?"

The angels take the hint.

"Yessir! Sorry, sir." They say hurriedly, pausing just long enough to bow before rushing away. Anna takes hold of Castiel's arm.

"Come on, Cas, let's go." She begins to tug him away, but is stopped.

"You go, Anael. I want to speak to Castiel." Michael says. He says it gently, but there is no doubt that it is an order.

Anna does not need to be asked twice and scurries off, glancing worriedly over her shoulder as she goes.

* * *

Castiel looks down at the floor, wings pressing forwards in his shame. He's in trouble, he just knows it.

"Look at me, Castiel."

Castiel looks, and sees strength, maturity and knowledge; unwavering, just Michael who could easily fight off a thousand Leviathan, with or without his sword of Holy Fire.

Castiel wants to be him.

"Am I in trouble?" Castiel asks, trying hard to keep his fear in check.

Michael sounds mildly amused at the idea. "Should you be?"

"No! I didn't do anything. Apart from I did once disturb Zachariah's studying, but he punished me good for that already." Castiel admits. Honesty is the best policy, after all.

"Oh, I heard. That's not why I'm here. I just wanted to ask you how you are."

Castiel blinks. He's not sure how to answer.

"Um. I dunno." He says, without thinking.

"Don't say 'dunno' when someone asks you a question, Castiel. Are you studying?"

"Sorry, Michael. Yes, I'm studying Enochian sigils and celestial bodies and Creating and all kinds of stuff." Castiel trips over his words in his hurry to repair his mistake.

Michael smiles slightly. "What about training?"

Castiel falters. "I'm too young to get trained."

"Gabriel began his training at your age."

"But I'm no archangel, sir." Castiel cocks his head to the side. "I'd be behind."

"You may not be an archangel, but from what I've heard, you're special." Michael says matter-of-factly. Castiel feels a warm glow of pride fill him from toe to wingtip, but quenches it quickly.

"Am I?"

"You were chosen to stand alongside the archangels from the very beginning, Castiel. Surely that makes you special enough?"

"I du- I mean, I'm not sure." Castiel looks away, back west, where the clouds are blackish-violet and churning.

He is quiet for a moment, and then asks, "Who are we fighting?"

Michael gives him a hard look.

"We aren't fighting anyone. But one day, we might have to. So we must be ready. We must be strong."

"We've got tonnes of angels already trained, millions and millions of garrisons. I wouldn't make any difference, not me." Castiel mutters. Michael hears.

"So what you mean is, that if I were not in the garrison, the garrison would not notice?" he asks. Castiel looks horrified.

"No, not you! They need you. You're really strong, and fast, and clever, and you could probably win the battle all by yourself! I mean..."

"But Castiel, that's the point. No angel can fight alone. Not me, not Raphael, not your Balthazar, not...not anyone. Why do you think we have all these brothers and sisters?" Michael gestures at the sky, where in the dark Castiel can see the light-points of his family moving across the Host. Then Michael turns and kneels down next to Castiel.

"Every angel is important. Even you." He taps Castiel's chest in a deeply uncharacteristic gesture, and Castiel feels a strange rush of fear-admiration-love.

It reminds him of Lucifer, and that is something he thought no angel was capable of doing.

Now that Castiel thinks about it, a lot of Michael reminds him of Lucifer.

"We need you, Castiel." Michael says. "We all need you."

Castiel smiles as Michael stands, his white wings vivid against the grey marble floor of the Library.

"And Castiel?"

"Yes?"

"Don't skip your lessons. You'll end up like Gabriel."

Castiel gulps. "Sorry, sir."

"Forgiven. _Mozod_, Castiel." Michael says, and vanishes before his brother has a chance to reply.

"_Mozod_." Castiel mutters redundantly, wandering towards the great Library steps. If Michael is going to be checking in on him, he should probably start studying now.

Castiel is little if not realistic.

* * *

**Enochian: _Parm, siatris, parm _ means 'Run, scorpions, run'. _Mozod _means 'Joy of God' - it's kind of the Enochian equivalent of 'Shalom' or 'Live long and Prosper'. The title _napzsad _means 'sword'.**

* * *

** I hope you liked that! If you have any ideas you'd like me to write, PM me or put them in a review. **

**nesting-seraph x**


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